


Potter’s Dream… or Malfoy’s Scheme?

by Refictionista



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Broken Engagement, Conspiracy, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Engagement, F/F, F/M, Grimmauld Place, Gullible Hermione, HP 3Somes Gift Exchange, HP: EWE, Horny Harry, Idiot Astoria, Malfoy Manor, Manipulation, Massage, Meddlesome Narcissa, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Oral Sex, Potions, Scheming, Sibling Incest, Sister/Sister Incest, Threesome - F/F/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, implied dramione
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 06:44:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11179239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Refictionista/pseuds/Refictionista
Summary: When it comes to restoring a family’s reputation, a truly cunning mother will do anything to ensure that her son’s fiancée is the perfect candidate... and as far as she is concerned, any and all varieties of manipulation are fair game.WARNING: use of a 'bravery potion' to encourage a character to be more adventurous (sexually) without their knowledge.Written for the 2017HP 3SomesGift Exchange. The prompt from lrthunder wasbefore Astoria marries Draco, she wants to experience the relationship Daphne has with Harry. My thanks toriddikulus-ravenclaw,harrypotterandthegobletofwine, andellesjourneyfor their help and guidance.





	1. Book Cover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LRThunder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LRThunder/gifts).




	2. Chapter 2

* * *

~ north wing conservatory, Malfoy Manor ~

* * *

“I don’t know, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Oh darling, please. Surely, _we_ are beyond such narrow formalities by this point. I insist you call me Narcissa—”

“She’s my _sister_. I want her to be happy... Narcissa.”

The older witch reached across the table to lightly clasp Daphne’s wrist. Her stoic exterior was betrayed only by the briefest glimpse of pity in her eyes. 

“As do I, you must believe me. I’ve come to care greatly for Astoria; she’s a lovely young witch. I think she’s practically the perfect pure-blooded...” Narcissa absently looked away, watching the white peacocks as they strutted about the manor’s garden. Daphne waited until Narcissa blinked and continued with their conversation. “However, you know as well as I do that Draco’s attentions are... elsewhere. If I had even the slightest inclination that they could later become a good fit, then I might persist in encouraging the match.” 

Looking down, Daphne noticed how Narcissa's other hand had absently crushed the delicate lace napkin in her lap. Narcissa realized it as well and attempted to smooth the wrinkled fabric. The older witch leaned back slowly, releasing Daphne’s wrist and sighing tiredly.

“That horrid war already stole so much when it came to my son’s freedom of choice. It was never made public, but when his father failed the Dark Lord… well… that _monstrous_ half-blood expected my son to do things, the most horrible things, out of revenge for Lucius’s… inadequacy. Draco made sacrifices for our family that should never be asked of a boy. My only son. He was— _is_ a good son. I know that, once again, Draco plans to do his familial duty, but in the end he and Astoria will not suit. I cannot—will not—ask this of him again.”

“She’s in love with him,” said Daphne in a frail voice.

“She _thinks_ she is in love with him, but love is never one sided.” Narcissa tapped a finger to the rim of her teacup. “Did you believe yourself to be in love with Vincent?”

“No.”

“Did you believe him to be in love with you?”

“Of course not. We both knew what was expected of us. We had an _understanding_. I was sad that he died, but I wasn’t heartbroken.”

“Yes, you both knew the truth. You accepted your duty to your lineage. Dear sweet Vincent, for all of his cerebral failings, had no foolish notions of anything other than an arranged pure-blood alliance between your families. My son and your sister were matched under similar circumstances, but I fear it has grown into an uneven relationship. Astoria has deluded herself into replicating _your_ current relationship, but Draco doesn’t feel for Astoria what she does for him.”

Narcissa gave an indelicate snort.

“Not that my husband or your parents give a Muggle-made Knut for how Draco feels… or how that will later devastate Astoria. Draco will deny himself what he truly wants and eventually will grow to resent your sister for her attempts to get him to reciprocate her feelings. She will one day find herself trapped in a loveless marriage, completely unprepared for the object of her affections despising her.”

“It may not end like that, Draco could one day—”

“Don’t be naïve, it isn’t becoming. I’m telling you that I _know_ my son,” said Narcissa firmly. “Daphne, I apologize for being so blunt and harsh, but aren’t you happy now? Happier with Mr. Potter than you could have ever been with poor Vincent? You clearly benefited from the recent changes in our society when you put aside the ideals of pure-blood supremacy in favor of the now fashionable trend for tolerance. You found love. Don’t you want the same for Astoria?”

“Perhaps, it depends on what you have in mind.” The younger witch looked down at her untouched plate of biscuits. “I assume you have some scheme.”

“I have a somewhat unconventional idea that would involve a Gryffindor level of courage. Sometimes Slytherin cunning could benefit from that house’s reckless ability to be free from inhibitions, but that’s a discussion for another time. First I have to ask, how close are you and Astoria?”

* * *

~ front parlor, Grimmauld Place ~

* * *

Sometimes, it seemed that the owls never stopped delivering the post.

Harry had worried about that when he, initially with Ron, and then following a year later with Hermione as well, moved to number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Sure it was protected by a Fidelius Charm, but owls came swooping down on the windowsills at all hours of the day and night. They continued to do so, even two years after the end of the Second Wizarding War. How the Muggle neighbors didn’t notice such a large number of birds with mail in their beaks was beyond his understanding. Hermione had explained in great detail how the charm’s magic made the owls invisible and intangible, but it still seemed rather improbable.

He gave the latest overburdened owl a treat before sending it away and flipped through the post. Neverending letters from fans, occasional gifts from thankful citizens, persistent requests for interviews; Harry threw each into the rubbish bin one by one. He stopped when he came across a small white envelope with Daphne’s name written in smaragdine ink. The delicate penmanship seemed remarkably similar to his girlfriend’s handwriting.

“Daphne,” he called out, “you got something.”

“Oh?”

“I think it’s from either your sister or your mother.”

“I’ll come get it in a minute.”

Sure enough, Harry had only finished tossing out the rest of the mail when the dark-haired witch stepped into the living room. She gave him a peck on the cheek as he handed her the envelope, and Harry sat down to review his Quidditch playbook for the Auror Office’s upcoming match with the Wizengamot Administration Services. Daphne sat primly on one of their overstuffed chairs and tapped her wand against the seal, the letter popping out neatly.

“You were right. It’s from Astoria.” She began reading aloud, but Harry wasn’t listening as she rambled on and disclosed the contents of her sister’s letter. He was too busy scribbling notes on some tactical changes to the Hawkshead Attacking Formation. This was his first year as the Auror Office team captain, and he wanted to win the Ministry’s Intramural Cup.

“Ahem.” Daphne waited with her hands folded in her lap until she was sure she had her boyfriend’s full attention.

Harry blinked and looked around, finally focusing on the witch sitting next to him. “I’m sorry… What did you ask?” He put away the playbook when he saw Daphne’s face. He could tell that they were about to discuss something important, so it appeared that Quidditch would have to wait.

“My sister wants to know if she can stay here with us for a few days. Will you and Hermione be okay with that? It sounds like she’s absolutely desperate to get away from my parents and all of mother’s wedding preparations.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, if I’m reading in between the lines correctly… Astoria is hearing rumors that Draco is cheating on her.” Daphne enunciated each word with an unusual intensity.

There was a gasp from the hallway; both turned to see their mutual roommate standing in the doorframe. Daphne smirked.

“She suspects you, Hermione. Oh… come now, don’t look at me like that. Honestly, how can you be surprised? After Weasley’s vulgar outburst in the Ministry cafeteria last week... Merlin, in front of all those people. Well, I’m surprised your _working lunch_ with Draco wasn’t published on the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ , let alone a few mentions in the society gossip rags.”

Pink-cheeked, Hermione gave Harry a desperate glance. He shrugged. It was no secret that Hermione’s association—Harry didn’t think it qualified quite yet as a friendship—with Draco caused issues in the past; it had been one of the reasons Ron moved out of Grimmauld Place. 

It had started with Harry and Hermione testifying on Draco’s behalf during his trial, which Ron had protested against. Then after returning from Hogwarts a year later, Hermione had taken a position in the Ministry’s Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, where Draco already worked in their Goblin Liaison Office. Hermione insisted that she and Draco were merely acquaintances, cordial co-workers who had put aside their differences and nothing more. However, Ron wasn’t willing to drop his deep-seated hatred of their longtime rival. When Harry started dating Daphne, Ron had foolishly forbidden Hermione to become friends with Draco.

That had been a very bad move on Ron’s part.

“I am _not_ responsible for Ronald Weasley’s completely unreasonable jealousy and subsequent embarrassing actions,” Hermione said testily. “Last week showed me that he still feels entitled to exert control over my life, for which I sent him _several_ Howlers.”

“Daphne didn’t say that you were—”

“Draco and I are work colleagues in a shamefully understaffed department. His fluency in Gobbledegook is an incredible asset to my work, and he has always been completely professional in all of our interactions. In return, I assist him when someone uses his past as a reason to drown him in red tape out of spite. Is it so unreasonable for us to discuss plans regarding our combined caseload while having lunch together?”

“Of course not, Hermione. However, this isn’t about you. Astoria, my little sister, is dreadfully upset. I’m sure that Mamma is putting horrible pressure on her to squelch these rumors and put their relationship to rights in the eyes of the public. Draco may have apologized to you for his behavior during school and became the perfect coworker, but being a redeemed Death Eater poster boy doesn’t mean he isn’t utter shite as a fiancé outside of the office.”

Hermione stared at Daphne with a dazed look on her face, a bewildered pain evident behind her otherwise stoic eyes. “Your mother is… I understand. I—um—need to go to work,” she finally said, grabbing her wand and stuffing it into her purse.

“Wait, Hermione. Is it okay with you that Astoria stays here? Please, she won’t be a bother. She just needs to be around people who care about her.”

“Of course,” said Hermione, pursing her lips. Her eyes watered and her expression softened. “I’m sorry. Of course, she can stay. Taking care of family should always come first.”

“Thanks,” said Daphne. She stood up and gave Hermione a hug, knowing that the other witch had been thinking of her Obliviated family in Australia.

Hermione hugged Daphne back, but then stepped back. “You’re welcome.” She wiped at the tears threatening to fall, regaining her composure. 

“Oh, Hermione…” Harry stood up to hug her as well.

“Harry, stop. I was just being foolish and thinking that even with Daphne’s mum being unreasonable to Astoria… well, I would still take that over mine not remembering me. Please, let’s change the subject.”

Daphne sat back down. “It’s my turn to cook on Tuesday; maybe I could make something special. Maybe Italian? No wait, I was already planning to cook that on Friday. Oh—not that—I’m sure Astoria’s stay won’t be very long; I think she just needs a few days to unwind.”

“As far as I’m concerned, your sister is welcome to stay as long as she likes. You know, it likely won’t be an issue.” Hermione chuckled and pointed at Harry. “Because if we’re putting her up in Ron’s old room, then she probably won’t extend her stay too long anyway, unless _you_ recently decided to tidy it up _like I asked over a month ago_.”

Daphne turned to Harry. “I thought you said you were going to tell Kreacher to do something about that smell.”

“I did, but we’re at an impasse at the moment. He refuses to do the laundry for someone not living here.”

“For goodness sakes, Harry, it’s been months. Ron needs to pick up his dirty clothes—we aren’t a hamper. Plus, Kreacher isn’t a slave. You shouldn’t _expect_ him to do something you wouldn’t be willing to do yourself.”

Harry sputtered and Daphne smirked.

“I’m not washing his—they’re Ron’s—okay, whatever… I’ll box them up and send them to the Burrow before Astoria comes.”

Hermione shrugged. “Good enough.” She supposed this was the first time Astoria had contributed something useful, if the younger witch’s upcoming visit had finally motivating Harry counted. “Umm, Daphne… Is Astoria going to be okay with _me_ here?”

Daphne’s tendency to show no emotion when it came to personal vulnerability wiped the smile from her face. Perhaps it was a Slytherin trait; Hermione frequently saw the same reaction with Draco.

“Astoria has little say in who Draco chooses to be friends with, and if she tries to pout and manipulate him, she will find herself woefully outmatched. She can be foolish and melodramatic, but she also knows Draco won’t take too kindly to her taking any frustrations out on his friends.”

“I don’t know if we’re friends—”

“In Slytherin,” Daphne stated with particular emphasis, “friendships were rare, but they were _real_. You and Harry testified in his defense at his trial. You gave him a second chance when he apologized. You don’t treat him with contempt and you stand by him against those who do.” She stood, her face a cold mask. “You may not consider Draco Malfoy to be your friend, but I assure you that he thinks differently.”

“But—”

“Astoria won’t have any problems with you. She already knows you live here, and she wouldn’t have asked to stay with us if that were an issue. She may have insecurities about you brought on by my mother and the tabloids, but she will find out they are baseless rumors by staying here.”

“If you say so.” Hermione looked at her watch. “Oh, I really must be going. You know I wouldn’t be working on a Saturday if there wasn’t a time-sensitive issue.”

“Of course.”

Hermione grabbed her purse and left through the fireplace, vanishing into the emerald green flames.

Harry walked over to Daphne and kissed her hand. “I agree with Hermione. Let your sister know she is welcome here, for as long as she likes.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. Could you please adjust the wards on the Floo to allow her residing privileges? It will only take me a minute to write her back; knowing Astoria, she is sitting by the window waiting for my response.”

* * *

Less than an hour later, Astoria stumbled out of the fireplace, dropped her luggage, and practically ran into her sister’s waiting arms. Harry patted Astoria awkwardly on the shoulder and left to go make the two girls some hot chocolate after Daphne silently mouthed the request.

“Astoria, sweetie, what’s going on? I’ve never seen you this upset by Mother… Wait… Oh, no… I don’t believe it. That hairy-hearted wizard… I’ll kill him… What did Draco _do?”_ asked Daphne, pulling her sister down to join her on the couch.

“He—he—” Astoria sobbed uncontrollably, taking in deep gasping breaths. “He didn’t _do_ anything, and that’s the problem. Daphne, I don’t know what to do! I want—I—Mother and Father will be furious if I tell them that I’m thinking of breaking off the engagement. They won’t care that Draco doesn’t _love_ me.”

“Oh, Astoria…”

“No, you don’t understand. Vincent died and suddenly you were free. Then you found someone who loves you… actually cares for you. What I wouldn’t give to experience that! I’ve tried and I’ve tried, but Draco never touches me. Then the other day, I overheard him telling his mother that he barely _tolerates_ me. Mrs. Malfoy has made it clear that our engagement isn’t in their family’s best interests these days—”

“Sorry,” interrupted Harry, carrying three mugs of steaming cocoa. He handed one to both sisters, feeling out of place. “Do you want me to leave?” he asked, looking from Astoria to Daphne.

“Perhaps—”

“No,” said Astoria, looking down at the floor. “Please stay. There really isn’t much else to tell. Mother wants me to put an end to the rumors, but Draco said that he had more important issues than dealing with something as insignificant as tawdry gossip. I just can’t stand either one of them right now.”

Daphne nodded, understanding. She motioned for Harry to sit on the other side of Astoria. They quietly sipped at their hot chocolate in front of the fire, simply enjoying each other’s company. When Astoria set her mug down, she announced she felt better and was going to wash away the mascara stains on her cheeks. 

“Do you think it’s possible that Draco is cheating on her?” asked Harry after Astoria left the room. “If he did, we both know it wasn’t with Hermione.”

“Draco’s always been a prat, but I find it extremely difficult to believe he would do anything to jeopardize his family’s chances at redemption in the public eye. He certainly wouldn’t have been indiscreet enough for Astoria to find out about it, but _if_ he did…” Daphne’s voice trailed off and then sighed. “No, you’re right. Hermione wouldn’t be involved with something so sordid. The Malfoys have been obsessed with rebuilding their reputations, so Draco wouldn’t dare doing anything so foolish either. I don’t know why we entertained the idea. Perhaps Astoria’s foolishness is contagious. Small wonder that the Malfoys are annoyed with her. She hasn’t involved herself in any of their efforts to improve the public’s opinion. Did you know that they donated an obscene amount of money to the Widows and Orphans Charity Fund, _anonymously_ of course… not that it took Rita Skeeter long to find out.”

Harry didn’t know that, but he avoided reading _Witch Weekly_ and the _Daily Prophet_. He didn’t keep up with the latest gossip like Daphne did.

“Narcissa even campaigned for the better treatment of house-elves! She and Draco both made speeches in front of the Wizengamot on their behalf last month.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. She invited me over to tea the other week to discuss forming a possible House-elf Initiatives Committee in the Witches League. They were quite put out that Astoria completely dismissed the idea.”

“Hermione might be interested in joining.”

“It was actually Hermione’s idea, or so I was told.” Daphne scooted over to whisper in Harry’s ear, running a hand along his thigh to his crotch. “She may be Muggle-born, but that witch has an excellent _grasp_ of pure-blood politics.”

Harry felt himself getting hard and had to put forth a great deal of effort to pull her hand away. “Daphne, your sister will be back any second.”

“I know,” she said simply and began unbuttoning his shirt. “You remember a few weeks back when you left on assignment to capture that Rockwood fellow?”

“His name was Rookwood.”

“Whatever.” She straddled Harry’s lap. “Anyway… I was so worried about you chasing after yet another dangerous rogue Death Eater. Hermione was too, and so we stayed in that weekend to keep each other company. We had a girl’s night… watched some ridiculous Muggle romantic comedy on that tele-thing… got drunk. Are you aware that Hermione has the tendency to say _anything_ when she’s been drinking? She could never make it as a Slytherin with that inability to keep secrets.” She leaned over to whisper again in Harry’s ear. “Anyway… Do you want to know what she told me?”

Harry felt rather daring. “What?” he asked, running his hands along the smooth skin of Daphne’s waist underneath her blouse.

“She said that right before I moved in with the two of you, you tossed out all your dirty magazines. Which I suppose was very considerate of my feelings, so thank you. She also told me that your old porn collection seemed to have a theme.” Daphne began unbuckling his belt. “Do you have a secret fantasy, Harry Potter?”

“You know about…”

“How you’ve dreamed about having a threesome with two girls? Yes, I know.” She leaned back, fingering the tie at the top of her blouse. “I’m perfectly willing to share you as long as I’m involved. And _perhaps_ , if you took more initiative right now, Astoria would be interested as well. She’s always followed my lead, and I think it would do some good to make her feel desired. Up to you, of course.”

Harry blinked, and then smiled. “Do you think Astoria would be interested?”

“I may have added some of your Auror kit’s bravery mojo to the hot cocoa mix you served us earlier. What? It isn’t Amortentia, for Merlin’s sake. I don’t go around drugging people with sleazy love potions, _especially my sister_. This will only give her a little boost of courage… Not all of us are Gryffindors.” She pulled off her blouse and camisole, giving Harry a close up view of his favorite red bra.

* * *

Astoria finished adjusting her make up with a swish of her wand. Her eyes were still bloodshot, but any spell to fix the redness would sting. It was a shame that her face wasn’t flawless, but it would have to do… though... red eyes could help to garner some sympathy from the Boy Who Lived. _That might be nice._ She smiled and made sure that her hair was perfect with not a strand out of place, then headed back to the living room.

And walked into the last scene she expected.

Daphne was lying facedown on a rug near the fire _wearing only her knickers_ as Harry, without a shirt, was kneading the muscles of Daphne’s back. Her sister made a moan of approval as Harry concentrated on one particular spot near her hip. He looked up and smiled at Astoria.

“Oh,” said Astoria, blushing but unable to drag her gaze away from his bare chest, “I’m sorry…”

“Come join us, Astoria,” said Harry. “We’re just giving each other massages.”

She tilted her head, puzzled but curious. “You’re doing what?”

“Astoria, seriously, get over here. Harry hands use some strange form of Muggle magic. I swear that they could work the tension out of a goblin during tax season.”

Harry laughed. “Muggle magic is an oxymoron.” Daphne reached behind to pinch him playfully.

“What’s a mashiges?” asked Astoria, walking into the room.

Daphne grinned. “It’s called massage. Hmm… what’s the best way to explain it? I guess that you would say they’re a Muggle equivalent of a _Musculus Relaxo_ … just unbelievably better. It will make you feel _so_ good.”

“And as a bonus, it doesn’t turn your skin bright yellow either,” said Harry, shrugging impishly. “Sometimes Muggle methods are better.”

Daphne sat up, holding a pillow to her bare chest, and pulled Astoria down next to her. “Harry can make you feel _wonderful_ ,” she whispered. She smirked and gave her sister a wink.

Astoria slowly smiled. “All right,” she said, feeling adventurous. “I’ll try it.”

“Excellent, here take my pillow and lie down. No, first take your shirt off… and if you want him to do a really good job, then lose the bra as well.”

Astoria looked over to see Harry fiddling with a bottle. It was one thing to admire Daphne’s hot boyfriend, but entirely different for him to touch her bare skin… though… Daphne was here with them. _Just go for it_ , she thought, _Draco can’t complain when he’s done worse._ Before Harry had a chance to see anything, she took off her top and bra and lay down. 

Harry turned around and poured some oil into his hands. He rubbed them together briskly. “Just heating the massage oil,” he explained at Astoria’s unasked question. After a minute, he gently placed his hands on Astoria’s shoulders. 

When he began to slowly knead them with his Quidditch-calloused hands, Astoria sighed and closed her eyes. _Daphne was right_ , she mused. _This feels heavenly_. Peeking through her lashes, she saw that her older sister hadn’t covered up her nakedness. Astoria guessed that Harry wasn’t done giving her a massage, and—for some strange reason—she admired Daphne for her liberated nature. Obviously, living with two Gryffindors had made Daphne more confident. How calming it must be to live with certainty.

She heard Daphne move out of sight. “Astoria, do you want to lose the shoes?” Daphne asked from somewhere behind her.

“Yes, please,” Astoria sighed happily, feeling more relaxed than she had in ages.

Daphne slipped off her sister’s snakeskin pumps. “Stockings too?”

Harry had found a knot of tension and was working his incongruous Muggle magic. Astoria moaned, no longer caring about any of her clothes. “Sure, why not... Should I take my skirt off as well?”

Daphne smiled back at Harry’s enthusiastic grin.

Harry moved his hands down Astoria’s back, putting pressure in all the right places. He kneaded his way back up towards her shoulders, his hands brushing the underside of her breasts. Astoria shivered and felt an ache growing in her core. Harry picked up an arm and worked on the muscles all the way down to her fingers, and then he placed her arm down gently. He repeated the process on her other arm, only this time when he set her arm down next to her thigh, he ran his hand down her leg.

Astoria bit her lip to keep from gasping, as the feeling of warm hands on her bare legs was a sensation she had almost forgotten. Harry began to move down her leg, caressing the backs of her thighs and calves as he made his way to her feet. When she started to squirm, Harry ran his thumbs up the middle of her thighs as his hand covered all the way to the outside.

Daphne heard Astoria’s whimpers and knew the younger witch was aroused… her boyfriend was very a very talented sensual masseuse. While Harry focused on her legs, Daphne moved up to her sister’s head. She massaged the top of Astoria’s forehead with her fingertips.

“Turn over for us,” Daphne whispered, giving her sister a gentle kiss next to her ear. “Go ahead, it’s alright.”

Without thought, Astoria nodded and turned over, her cheeks slightly pink but otherwise fully relaxed and beyond caring. A lustful Harry drank in the sight of the pale silky skin of her stomach, the small yet firm breasts with peaked nipples, and soaking wet panties. Harry grew painfully hard at the vision of his girlfriend’s sister and moved to the middle. With one hand, he began massaging her leg again, working his way up higher than earlier. With the other, he worked on the muscles above and below her breasts.

Astoria was dying to rub her thighs together and wanted to spread them wider at the same time. It all felt so good, and it had been so long since she had been touched like this. She moaned pitifully as Harry once again massaged right up to her panty line and down again.

Daphne kept running her fingernails through Astoria’s scalp, but leaned over to look her sister in the eye. “Do you want Harry to _really_ touch you? Do you want to cum?”

“Yes,” Astoria moaned, no longer caring about her engagement. “Oh, Merlin. _Please_.”

“You heard my sister,” Daphne told Harry.

Harry leaned over to kiss Astoria’s neck, nipping just under the jawline. His hand moved up her thigh, his fingertips dancing over her soft skin as he moved higher. She gasped when he pushed into her drenched panties. Astoria pushed down against his hand, desperately wanting to feel Harry between her folds.

“Let’s take these off,” said Daphne. Harry’s hand kept rubbing the same spot even as Daphne pulled the lacy green fabric down her sister’s legs.

“You’re beautiful, Astoria,” Harry whispered into her ear, almost but not quite pushing a finger into her. “So responsive. So damn wet. I’m lucky that Daphne is willing to share.”

“I agree,” said Daphne. Harry looked over at Daphne to find his girlfriend now completely nude, sitting with her legs spread wide. It gave him the perfect view of Daphne’s pussy as she ran her index finger around her swollen clit. “Make her cum, Harry.”

“With pleasure.” Harry began kissing down Astoria’s chest as his index finger slowly entered her. He continued moving south at an agonizing pace, sucking on one nipple and then the other, biting playfully at her stomach, slowly thrusting. When he reached her juncture, he blew a warm breath between her legs and added a second finger. The little witch bucked up, and he grabbed her leg and threw it over his shoulder. Astoria’s other leg moved up in an attempt to pull Harry closer, but his mouth never quite made contact. Daphne scooted up and played with her sister’s tits, pinching one and flicking her tip of her tongue across the other nipple. With a wink at Daphne, Harry dove down and ran the full length of his own tongue along Astoria’s seam.

“Merlin!” she screamed. Months of built up sexual frustration made Astoria’s forcefully swift climax inevitable. She grabbed fistfuls of Harry’s hair and squeezed her legs together as Harry continued to lap at her dripping pussy. His tongue was working miracles. “I’m going to cum, Daphne! I’m going to—”

Daphne held onto her sister as she watched what had to be one of the powerful orgasms ever overtake the little witch. She smirked at the dazed, satisfied look on Astoria’s face. She crawled over and snuggled next to Astoria like they did when they were little girls, and motioned for Harry to join her on Astoria’s other side. Harry spooned Astoria from behind, absently running a hand up and down her stomach.

“Did you like that?” asked Daphne, giving her sister a kiss on the forehead.

“Yes,” answered Astoria.

“Harry is something, isn’t he?”

“He sure is,” giggled Astoria.

“We should reward him. Don’t you agree?”

“How?”

Daphne reached out and fingered Astoria. “How long has it been since you’ve enjoyed a good cock?” Astoria whimpered and Harry’s eyes grew wide. “How about it, Harry? Would you like to fuck my sister?” She took her fingers out of Astoria, and then leaned over and held them out to Harry, who sucked them clean. Harry grabbed Daphne by the back of the head and pulled her in for a passionate kiss. Beneath them, Astoria watched. Feeling devoid of contact, she sat up and ran her hands over Harry’s chest.

Daphne pulled away after sucking on Harry’s lower lip. “Astoria first, Harry. She _needs_ you.”

“How do you want to do this?” he panted. He moaned when Astoria lightly bit his collarbone. Daphne had her hand inside his unbuttoned pants, stroking him.

“Astoria? Speak up, sweetie. This is all about making you feel good.”

The younger witch leaned back. “Can I be on top?” she asked hopefully. “I’ve always wanted to do that, but when he was still interested… well, Draco never—”

“Forget about that wanker, Astoria. Lie down, Harry,” Daphne ordered. “And get those pants off.”

Harry didn’t need to be told twice. Astoria straddled him, looking down at the cock weeping beneath her with wide eyes. He reached out a touched her chin. “Look at me, Astoria.” She did so, almost shyly, and he smiled.

“I need to see where I need to go,” she protested.

Harry held her firm. “No, you look at me. Your sister will help.”

“Don’t worry about a thing, Astoria. Move your knees a little—yes, just like that—now you can ride him.”

Harry grabbed Astoria so forcefully by the hips that he was sure he’d bruise the little witch’s pale skin and impaled her lithe body on his eager cock.

“Oh Merlin!” she cried. Astoria placed her hands on Harry’s chest for support, arching backwards and closing her eyes. Harry stayed still, allowing her to adjust to the position before helping her push off almost completely and thrust back down hard. As their pace increased, Astoria moaned again and again with each thrust. Daphne scrambled up to Harry, and he pulled her up to him into a wanton kiss.

All three were groaning, and Harry already felt the telltale stiffening in his abdomen. He jerked Astoria up and down without rhythm. Daphne stopped kissing Harry and snuck her hand between their bodies to press and rub Astoria’s clit. Daphne was determined that her little sister cum at the same time as Harry, and her intervention worked. Astoria’s mouth hung open and she threw her head to the side, the feeling from deep within her pussy befuddling her mind. She was only mute for a moment, but then she shrieked Daphne’s and Harry’s names over and over again.

“Oh fuck!” Harry groaned. He began thrusting upward like a man possessed, and then he jerked inside Astoria. He looked over and saw Daphne rubbing furiously at her own clit, her eyes locked onto his. “Fuck!” He came hard.

They didn’t hear the flames in the Floo as they roared to life.

* * *

~ a few moments earlier ~

* * *

“Draco, seriously. Come on now, _come on_. You are dragging your feet on purpose. All three of us need to sit down like rational adults and talk about the problem—”

“We merely had lunch together, Hermione. _If_ those disgusting cold sandwiches truly counted as a meal. Oh, and rather hurriedly in order to get back to our offices, I might add. _That_ and Weasley’s unreasonable ranting might have caused some indigestion, but Astoria has no reason to suspect me—us—of impropriety. No, I don’t believe for a moment that this is because of her mother. Astoria’s histrionic comportment during our engagement has barely been tolerable. This is just the latest in a string of selfish dramas that will plague me for the rest of my life; my fiancée’s fire’s lit, but her cauldron’s empty… Hold on.” Draco stopped and blinked, looking around them with rapidly narrowing eyes. “Merlin’s beard, you mean for us to do this right now? Witch, I thought we were going for some tea.”

Draco gave Hermione one of his haughtiest looks. Hermione huffed. She didn’t like that snooty expression. He didn’t aim it at her often; however, when he did, it reminded her of the horrible boy he had been during their schooldays. Draco turned to walk back the way they had come, but Hermione grabbed his arm and steered him towards the gilded fireplaces in the Ministry’s atrium.

“You _know_ what I mean. She’s your fiancée. She’s upset. Without some proper communication, the situation is only going to get worse. So… the sooner you do this, the better. Once she hears what we have to say, her trust in you will be restored. It won’t be difficult, I promise. After all, we’ll only have to tell her the truth.”

“Let go. I will not be manhandled like this in public, it’s unseemly.” He shook off Hermione’s hand and sneered. “Are you sure the Sorting Hat didn’t make a mistake? Perhaps you were meant to be a sappy little Hufflepuff. I don’t—”

“Please.” Hermione took a pinch of Floo powder from the communal dispenser and waited expectantly. “Please, Draco. Do this for yourself and for Astoria. And for Harry and Daphne—or please, even for me—as I strongly suspect she plans on being our roommate… indefinitely.”

“Are you saying you can’t stand her either?” He was still frowning, but there was the slightest hint of merriment in his eyes.

Hermione ignored the question. “Then afterwards, as a bonus, I will even deal with Ronald… appropriately. I promise to hex him so badly that he will _never_ bother either of us again.”

Draco’s frown disappeared, but his face was otherwise impassive. He crossed his arms, and stood up straight, towering over Hermione. “Fine, but only if you give me that memory. To keep, mind you.”

“Excellent.” Hermione smiled, throwing the powder into the flames. She walked into the fire, and Draco stepped in beside her. “Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!”

* * *

“Harry!”

“Oh my God, Hermione!”

“What the— _Astoria?”_

“Draco!?”

“Merlin,” said Daphne, grabbing a throw blanket off the couch to cover herself.

* * *

~ master bedroom, Malfoy Manor ~

* * *

Lucius Malfoy stood at one of the windows, watching his son taking a stroll across the grounds with the Mud—Muggle-born witch. Draco, quite convincingly distraught, was being consoled by the easily manipulated little chit. Lucius yanked at the sash of the drapes to shut out the offensive view.

“You do realize it will take _three_ generations to breed her filth out of the Malfoy lineage in order for our family to legally be considered pure-blood again. Our grandchildren and even great grandchildren will be considered half-bloods!”

“Lucius, calm yourself, your complaining is positively bourgeois. You are fully aware of Miss Granger’s war heroine status and how she is considered by all to be a brilliant witch despite the... _unfortunate_ circumstances of her birth. I advise you to remind yourself of her reputation, constantly. For Merlin’s sake, you can never let anyone suspect that you haven’t moderated your views on blood purity.”

“As if you have, Narcissa.” Lucius grimaced. “Or Draco, for that matter.”

Narcissa chuckled. “You sometimes seem to forget that I lied directly to the face of the Dark Lord and got away with it. As for Draco, our son is a healthy young wizard. I may be his mother, but I’m no prude. He is in the possession of an enthusiastic libido which focuses on… oh, how shall I say this delicately... an _aesthetically pleasing_ witch, coincidentally whose goodwill and prominence will pull this family’s tarnished name out of the mud.”

“Mud being the operative word.”

_“Lucius—”_

“Have no fear, Narcissa. I am perfectly capable of maintaining a false exterior… even if it has to last the rest of my natural life.” The latter he muttered under his breath. Lucius bravely peeked out the window and wrinkled his nose. “Sweet Salazar, he’s kissing her. I think I’m going to be ill.” He left the room in search of Firewhiskey.

Narcissa made a mental note to purchase some Cattermole Cheering Confections during her next shopping trip in Diagon Alley. Lucius was going to need them now that they had rid themselves of Draco’s ineffectual fiancée. Pity. Astoria was a nice girl, but with the Dark Lord’s demise, she didn’t have as much to offer their family… other than her pedigree, which was currently worthless in the eyes of society. 

It would take some time for the purity of bloodlines to rise in consequence again. Narcissa knew that, at some point in the future, the older and established wizarding families would make another move to exert control over their world. Likely not for several decades and doubtful during her lifetime, but the Malfoys were perfectly willing to make a soon forgettable sacrifice and to be patient. The intelligent Miss Granger was now the obvious and much more suitable choice for Draco. Lucius was just going to have to get used to the idea and then to voice his support of the young couple, especially once the paparazzi got a hold of the story.

One of Miss Granger’s more distinguishing features was her bushy hair. Combined with Draco’s aristocratic presence, it wouldn’t take long—perhaps even on their first public outing—to be recognized and for the press to get wind of the relationship. Draco would of course know to escort her to one of the finer restaurants where cameras would be flashing the moment they stepped out the doors. _But would her hair photograph well?_ Narcissa wondered. Maybe she would also pick up some of Sleekeazy’s newest line of product. It was rumored to be much more suitable for everyday use.

 _So much still to do._ She sat down at her secretaire and picked up a quill to compose a shopping list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding Lucius's comment on the blood status of their future grandchildren: according the Harry Potter wikia article on blood status, one must have all magical grandparents to be considered pure-blood (though extremists would require no known Muggle ancestors).


End file.
